


Checkmate

by ezziesworld (orphan_account)



Series: Domestic Bliss [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ezziesworld
Summary: You buy a chess board. J is a sore loser.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s), Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You
Series: Domestic Bliss [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697530
Kudos: 43





	Checkmate

Sometimes, J reminded you of a cat. Not because his eyes were black to the point they looked inhuman, or even his uncanny ability to sneak around your apartment without so much as a creak of the floorboards (he did that often, his goal was always to startle you, to which he always succeeded), but because he grew restless—and when he grew restless, he had a habit of making a mess. Much like a cat would run rampant through the house at two in the morning, knocking over pictures and pushing the cup you’d left too close to the edge right over, J would rummage through your belongings with a insouciant purse of his lips and a desire for stimuli. 

Bookshelves were no longer safe havens for literature, you discovered this his third stay at ‘ _the lady’s safe space_ ’, when he plucked them from the shelf one by one, glanced at it for a beat, then tossed it behind him. Proceeding to the DVD shelf, he gave them the same treatment, all the while mumbling to himself, 

“No, no— _what is this?_ —no, _boring, prude_ –no–”

So, in light of his destructive snooping, you had bought a chess board. It was no secret that J was a very methodical man. Often times searching for challenges be it physical or mental (granted, you were no champion chess player, but you had picked up a few tricks), and _lo and behold_ your books and DVD’s were no longer subjected to the haphazard dismissal of one very restless clown. 

In your living room, you sat. The chessboard was nice, pricey, a solid maple that stood on four round, sturdy legs. Your fingers toyed with the tip of the Queen absently, it’s ivory surface smooth and cool. 

“Make a move, doll.” J leaned himself back, his long legs crisscross as he planted his palms on the carpet. He was still barefaced, his tawny skin glowed with a fresh bloom in the streaks of light from your window. A small curve at the corner of his mouth read temerity. 

“It’s chess. It’s supposed to take time.” You mumbled, stretching from your seated position to move your queen, before backing out and sitting back down. You licked your lower lip, drawing it between your teeth in thought. J gave a huff of impatient breath. 

“ _Tick-tock_ , dollface.” 

“Shove it.” You countered with a grin. You placed the queen back and went for the remaining rook, gliding it across the board and snatching up his bishop. You held it up and wiggled it around between your index and thumb, adding a poke of your tongue for good measure. 

“Took ya _three minutes_ to figure that one out—maybe I should find another chess part-ner.” He goaded, pushing himself straight. You snickered, setting the ebony bishop down to join it’s comrades. You had three pawns, a knight, and a bishop. You didn’t want to acknowledge the amount of pieces he had taken. 

J didn’t hesitate, reaching down he plucked his own rook with long fingers, and slid it across the board, snatching up yours to toss in his ever growing pile. You disregarded the cocky grin on his face in favor of the board; you saw a move, and J didn’t. 

Suppressing the cheeky smile on your lips, you swerved your knight around and set it in place, adding a touch of flair when you brought your hand upwards. 

“Checkmate.” 

“What?” 

“ _Checkmate_.” You repeated, and this time you made no effort to hide your grin. J bent himself over the board comically, eyeing down the pieces with a low hum, as though he was certain on finding the error in your move. You crossed your arms over your chest, 

“Whats’a matter, J? Don’t tell me you’re a _sore loser_.” _Poke the bear, poke it._

He raised his head with a glare, 

“I wanna play a different game.” He growled, and then pounced. 

The board went flying, ebony and ivory chess pieces crying out in silent horror as they scattered to the wind. J tackled you, bringing his much larger frame over your own with a force that knocked you back. You gave a surprised squeal, wrapping yourself around him on instinct. 

“There’s no winning this game, _bunny_ —and you’re _definitely_ gonna be sore.” 


End file.
